Do Not Mix
by OliveTheOlive
Summary: A Christmas fic; yes I know this is a bit late. Christmas does not mix so well with alcohol. Or at least not with Gin. One-shot, slightly cracky Black Org story. Rated T simply for Gin's habit of fantasizing about murdering people. It happens.


I know this is a bit late for a Christmas fic, but I wrote the entire thing on Christmas itself, so I feel justified in my lateness. This was inspired by a pic that Eialyne had drawn for Christmas, and was my gift to her. Hurrah gifts!

I do not own the following characters. They are the property of Aoyama Gosho.

Enjoy the fic!

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A Christmas Detective Conan Fanfiction

Do Not Mix with Alcohol

Once upon a time, there was a very no-good man. He was an extortionist, he bribed, he even murdered, when the occasion called for it, and he did it all for a criminal organization of terrifying scale. He got paid a bit for it, but he truly did all these things because he loved them. He loved his job. He got a great deal of satisfaction from every deal forced upon others, every cooling body, and every defector who got what they deserved at his hands. There was nothing more fulfilling for him, nothing in the world.

However, there were things that brought his good mood down. Said things included people who weren't dead, but should be (including aforementioned defectors), people getting in his personal space, and Christmas.

There was no particular reason why he disliked Christmas. He merely prided himself on being extremely and utterly evil, and somewhere along the way, when he was only a child, he had picked up the notion that to be extremely and utterly evil, he really ought to hate Christmas. He had never questioned that whim, and he never would.

On one particular Christmas Eve, this man – I do not know his name, but he preferred to be called Gin, so that is what I shall call him – was, quite predictably, standing around an Organization outpost in a very bad mood. Or at least it was _supposed_ to be an Organization outpost. But since this particular location pretended at being the property of a perfectly respectable business owner and socialite, Vermouth had insisted on holding a Christmas party there. She claimed that it was necessary to "keep up appearances". Gin didn't give a fish about keeping up appearances.

Gin glared at the narrator for not letting him swear, even in his own head. Frustrated, he lit up a cigarette and hoped that the botched attempt at censorship would not become any kind of strange suggested foreshadowing, although how that could possibly be a form of foreshadowing, he did not know.

The cigarette wasn't doing anything to cheer him up, so he began to imagine some of his least favorite people (like Sherry, Vermouth, the narrator, Sherry, Akai, Sherry) writhing in agony and dying, covered in their own blood.

"Enjoying the party, sunshine?" Vermouth interrupted the very lovely scene of her own death, which involved lot of knives and torture, and blood and scars all over that horrifyingly pretty face of hers.

"Cut it out. I hate parties," he growled. "Don't even see why I need to be here."

"You're never around people, that's why. Relax and have fun, won't you?" Her gaze flickered up for some reason, and she grinned. It was her _evil_ grin, he could tell.

He opened his mouth to say something scathing back, but before he could, Vermouth closed the distance without warning and kissed him. On the mouth. It all happened very quickly, and before he had time to react, she was gone, her laughter floating back towards him as she moved back into the center of the room.

His next few words contained a good deal of expletives that we need not delve into. Suffice to say, Gin was not pleased, and his Vermouth-killing fantasy had just gotten a lot more violent, if such a thing was possible.

He continued to stand in his little secluded area, concentrating as much as possible on his plans for the future, when Chianti and Korn walked by, chatting amiably to each other. Or rather, Chianti was chatting, and Korn was listening and sometimes saying "Hmm," before becoming silent again. They slowed to a stop, looking at Gin with rather curious expressions on their faces. Or rather, Chianti did. Korn just stopped and stared, as his face didn't really have more than one expression to it.

"Well, what do we have here?" laughed Chianti, smirking crazily. But then again, she was often smirking crazily, when she wasn't angry at anyone.

"What are you looking at?"

She seemed to find something tremendously funny. "Nothing, nothing!" she told him cheerfully, smacking him on the back. He pitched forward slightly, and felt a very rough kiss on his cheek.

"What the _hell,_ Chianti?!" he yelled, his frustration finally tearing straight through the narrator's censoring. But she too, was already gone, Korn following glumly behind her.

Gin mentally added Chianti to his list of people to kill, and fumed quietly to himself, wary of any more approaching females. The next person to approach, however, was Vodka. Gin was actually glad of his presence. Vodka however, turned pale, and stared. He wasn't staring quite at Gin, but it was pretty close, maybe just a hair above his head.

"Vodka, what is it?"

"Aniki, you didn't-? It's right above your head, right th-" Vodka started to point, just as another operative walked into the room.

The man, Gin dimly remembered him as Snake, yelled at the top of his lungs, "What is the Kaitou Kid doing here?!"

Gin spun around, and sure enough, the Moonlight Magician himself was smirking down at him, holding a sprig of mistletoe directly above Gin's hatted head. The thief grinned at him.

"You're supposed to kiss Fatty, didn't you know?" And with that parting shot, Kid dropped the mistletoe on Gin's hat, and dived out the nearest window, laughing like a maniac. Snake ran to it, still fumbling for his gun and cursing.

"Aniki?" Vodka sounded extremely unsettled. "We don't really have to-"

"No." Gin glowered at him, and picked the mistletoe off of his hat, crushing it into as many small pieces as he could before tossing it aside.

"You have to, Vodka!" crooned Vermouth from the other side of the room. "It's bad luck if you don't!"

Gin was _so_ looking forward to killing her.

* * *

Kid ran across a rooftop, still laughing. He couldn't believe that he'd thrown away a perfect chance to infiltrate the Organization, all for a practical joke. But oh, what a joke it had been!

* * *

A few days later, Kuroba Kaito got a call, from a woman identifying herself as a former student of his father. It took a while to figure out just what she was talking about, but he eventually realized what she was asking:

Could he pull that prank again at _next_ year's Christmas party?

Kaito was rather taken aback by the request, not to mention the caller, but within a minute, he had agreed. And next year, he was getting Akako to charm the mistletoe. Maybe he'd get Tall and Scary to kiss Fatty after all.

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A belated Merry Christmas to all, and may you have a happy new year! Remember, feedback and constructive criticism makes the world go 'round!


End file.
